A Fiance for Christmas
by asarahworld
Summary: Doctor Iain Prydon has been invited to a Christmas party, hosted by an old friend. The only catch - he's supposed to bring his fiance of three years, a woman who doesn't exist. (Human!AU)
1. Chapter 1

Fake Relationship doctorroseprompts

Doctor Iain Prydon held his breath in anticipation. "Miss Tyler, they're expecting me to bring someone to this event," he said distastefully.

"So why not ask Clara? Surely she needs to attend as well, being the head of her department," Rose Tyler replied, a vivacious twinkle in her eye.

"It's not work related, actually. Please?" His voice was low, his eyes not leaving hers. Taken aback by the intensity, Rose nodded.

"Yeah, okay." She cleared her throat, and smiled. "So what's this mystery event?"

"An old friend is hosting a Christmas party," Iain grimaced slightly. "Invitation specifically ordered me to bring a plus one."

"Ordered?" Rose raised an eyebrow.

"I used to be part of the military." Iain looked down, frown deepening.

"What is it?" Rose reached for Iain's hand, her eyes searching his.

"I'd thought I'd been a bit obvious in trying to ask you as my plus one," Iain muttered. Rose stroked his thumb, then drew back.

"Looks like we won't need much practice," Rose laughed, nodding at their clasped hands. Iain's heart skipped.

"So you shall accompany me?"

"Yeah, okay." Rose beamed, her smile lighting up the room. "You want to meet somewhere, then?"

"I could pick you up," Iain offered, before his head caught up with his mouth, "that is, if you don't mind."

"No, that'd be lovely, ta. Means I won't need to take the train anywhere," Rose's smile grew, if that was possible, her tongue peeking through.

"Right, well. Alistair's probably expecting us to arrive at eight, and it's over in two hours, so it shouldn't be too much trouble."

"And you decided to wait until the last minute to ask. What if I'd had plans? I could have had a hot date lined up with Adam," Rose's smile changed to a feral grin. "Where is this party, then?"

"Priory Mews, down in Denham," Iain hoped that this wouldn't change her mind. "Why don't we do dinner first?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Iain Prydon?" Rose's grin widened.

"For all intents and purposes of the evening, I suppose I am, Miss Rose Tyler." Rose felt a shiver run down her back when he said her name like that. "There's only one, ah, slight problem." Rose said nothing, only eyeing Iain with interest. "I've gone and told the lot of them that I've had a steady girlfriend the past three years."

"Oh, Iain, surely you don't expect me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one silly party!" Rose bit her lip. Not Iain Prydon, of all people.

"Just for one night, Miss Tyler." Oh, but he was lying to himself if he ever said that he wouldn't object to not faking a relationship with her, certainly for longer than one lousy Christmas party. Rose appeared to be looking him over, clearly debating whether to accept his ludicrous proposal.

"Why not," she said finally. "It might be fun. At the very least, I get to attend a party. You said it started at eight?"

"Yes," Iain ignored the tingling sensation that ran up his spine, "we could go over certain, ah, things that you ought to know. As my girlfriend of three years, of course."

"Right. Well, I live Peckham, train comes 'bout every forty," Rose became lost in thought.

"It'd take well over an hour to get from Peckham to Denham, Miss Tyler," Iain interrupted, aghast, "especially when I said that I'd pick you up. We can use the time to ensure that our little… _guile_ works out."

"If I'm to be your girlfriend of three years, _Doctor Prydon_ , then you'll have to start calling me Rose, at least in public," Rose grinned again, and Iain forced himself to focus on their conversation and not the way her tongue was poking between her front teeth.

"Only if you call me Iain, _Rose Tyler_." Iain Prydon had never been so forward in his life. Blunt, by all means, but never forward, especially with one so beautiful and captivating as Rose Tyler.

"Okay, _Iain_ ," Rose breathed. "If we're to have been datin' for the last three years, then we'll have to know a lot about each other. I'll see you later," she smiled, her tongue touching out once more. Iain thought that it was quite possibly the most endearing thing he had ever seen.

"I look forward to it." Iain watched as she walked down the corridor to the stairwell. "I'll see you at quarter to six?" He called after her disappearing figure.

Rose came back over to where Iain was still standing. "Quarter to six, _sharp_. 12 Hanover Park, it's a couple of flats over a law centre. There's a side entrance to get into the flats. Don't be late." It amazed Iain how easily she smiled. He half-raised his hand in farewell as she once more disappeared down the stairwell.


	2. Chapter 2

It was half-five and Rose was pacing the floor of her little flat. She knew that Iain would not be arriving until at least quarter to, yet could not help but pace. She was, if she were honest with herself, more than slightly nervous about the venture. It wasn't as if she'd pretended to be someone's girlfriend before. She smoothed her dress flat and went to the loo to fuss at her hair. Waiting. She'd spent too much of her life waiting to be very good at it.

The doorbell rang. It was only five thirty-six, it was too early for that to be Iain…was it? Rose cracked the door open, undoing the chain when she saw Iain's lined face opposite hers. "Hello," she couldn't help but smile.

"Hello," he nodded. "I'm early, I know, but I was expecting there to be a few more cars out this way… you look, nice," he finished awkwardly.

"Only 'nice'? You better watch it or you'll be sleepin' on the sofa," Rose jested. And yet, she couldn't help but wonder…

"I suppose I ought to do this properly. It'll help our cover if there's an element of truth in it," Iain stepped into the flat. "Rose Tyler, no, wait, it'll sound much more romantic if I knew your middle name, which if we'd been dating the way we're going to say that we have been, I would know it."

"Marion," Rose's whiskey eyes were dancing.

"Rose Marion Tyler," Iain knelt on the floor, "we've known each other for five years since you transferred to my facility. Three years ago today, I agreed to go out with you on our first date. It wasn't much, just a basket of chips shared between co-workers, but I think that we both know it's grown to so much more," his smile was tender, "so would you do me the honour of being my wife?"

"Oh, Iain," Rose's voice was choked, "yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you." She held out her left hand, and Iain slid a diamond ring on her fourth finger. "Iain, please tell me that you didn't go out and buy a diamond ring for a fake engagement."

"It is real, but I didn't purchase it for today," he replied, his voice hinting that he did not want to talk about why he had a diamond ring in his possession.

Rose studied the ring, enjoying the weight of it on her finger. She imagined ever so briefly that this was not a fake engagement, that she and Iain would go on to be engaged after this dinner.

"Your chariot awaits, my darling Rose." Iain opened the door as Rose slipped into her coat. They left the building and Iain started the engine.

"Icebreaker time, I suppose," Rose said as they pulled out of the drive. "What's _your_ middle name, then, Iain Prydon?"

"Don't have one," Iain signalled, merging onto the A40. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Pink. What's yours?"

"Blue. Dark blue, like the old police boxes when they were new."

"Why do you drive such an impractical car?"

"It's classic. What are your parents like?"

"S just Mum. She does the odd hairdressing and works odd jobs. She's…protective. What about your family?"

"Just me, now. Have a daughter, married now, couple of children. Three – Ian Junior, Barbara Junior, and Alex. They live far enough away that we don't see each other often." Iain said with a sad smile. "Still, she's happy. That's what's important." Normally a very private man, even this admission felt like he was opening his entire heart to Rose. They continued trading questions the rest of the drive, each one more personal. "Open the glove box."

Curious, Rose acquiesced. And nearly burst out laughing. "Fifty-five questions you should be able to answer about your significant other?" She looked from the magazine to Iain.

"Thought it might be a good starting place. We've been dating for three years, remember?"

"What is their mother's maiden name?" Rose glanced at Iain. "Well?"

"Lambert."

"Prentice. 'What colour are their eyes?' M going to assume it's no longer referring to our mothers. Your eyes are blue."

"And yours are chocolate brown."

"Oh, you're a romantic, aren't you? What's one place you _desperately_ want to travel to?"

"Everywhere. Anywhere. I love meeting people. Ordinary, everyday people."

"I used to think it would be really romantic to visit France," Rose's voice held a tone of regret. "I suppose as my fiancé you ought to know that my ex ran off to France with another woman." She paused for a moment. "What foods can you absolutely not stand?"

"They have a very strange way of wording their questions," Iain remarked. "This one's easy. Pears. I hate pears. And apples. Apples are complete rubbish."

"Anything else?" Rose stifled a laugh.

"Beans," Iain shuddered.

"Do they shower in the morning or at night?" Rose read.

"Hold on, you haven't answered the last question," Iain protested.

"Not that I can think of. M sure there's something." They continued through that list, and three more, memorizing the important/common answers and laughing at the lighter ones.

Iain pulled into the drive. "Well, Miss Tyler?"

"Let's do this, Iain," she smiled.

"You're nervous," he remarked.

"Those magazines were actually useful," Rose laughed, taking Iain's proffered arm as they walked to the door.

The door opened before Iain had the opportunity to ring the bell. "Iain, you came. And you actually managed to bring a date with you."

"How many times, Alistair?" Iain shook his head. "Rose, dear, I would be sorry that it has taken so long for you to meet Alistair, but that doesn't appear to be entirely true at the moment." Iain was scowling, though there was a twinkling in his eyes.

"Rose Tyler," Rose offered her hand to their host.

"Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart. It's so nice to _finally_ meet the mysterious girlfriend of Iain Prydon," Alistair shook her hand, "now do come in before you let all the heating out into the street."

Iain looked at Rose and smiled. She looked beautiful.

"Really? Why, thank you Iain, darling," Rose said with a light smirk.

"For a fake date, that is," Iain whispered in her ear, grinning.

"If you lovebirds could possibly deign to join us," called Alistair from the dining room. Iain and Rose looked at each other, clasped their hands together (the ring prominently displayed) and entered the room.


	3. Chapter 3

doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas – Family, Shiver, Rosy cheeks, Love

timpetalsprompts Piper Bingo – Tongue-touched smile

Notes: According to Sherlock Holmes, three kisses means romantic attachment. (A Scandal in Belgravia)

"Drink, Iain?" Alistair pressed one into Iain's hand before he could respond. "And one for, ah, Rose." Rose smiled, murmuring thanks as she accepted the glass. She swirled the contents, looking at the guests.

"You met Alistair, of course. The group at the table are Mike Yates, John Benton, Jo Grant and her husband, and Harry Sullivan. We served together. The lot standing next to them comprise of Erisa Magambo, Mariam Price, Alan Mace, and Szymon Zbrigniev," Iain snapped his mouth shut. He didn't normally have such a tendency to ramble, or rather he had used to but had since ceased that habit. A brunette woman entered the room, her eyes widening obviously in shock when they landed on Iain, who promptly excused himself. Rose watched as he walked up to the woman, eyes bright, and embraced her.

 _I have no right bein' jealous_ , Rose told herself firmly as Iain led the woman to where she was waiting.

"Sarah, I'd love you to meet my fiancé, Rose Tyler. Rose, darling, let me introduce Sarah Jane Smith." Iain's eyes were tight, as if he were worried that Rose would not be able to keep her cover.

"Sarah Jane, it's lovely to meet you," Rose put on as warm a smile as she could muster. "You don't know how nice it is to finally get to know some of Iain's friends."

"Oh, this lot's always felt more like family. I can't tell you what it's been like these last few years, Iain's always trying to duck out at the last minute, then he shows up alone. Did you really catch the flu on Christmas for the past two years?" Sarah Jane's voice was sympathetic and filled with compassion.

Rose's smile turned slightly. "Yeah, bit of a Tyler holiday tradition. Usually manage to catch the flu just in time for the holidays," she improvised. It wasn't a complete lie, both she and her mother had been sick during Christmas, but it hadn't been last year or the year before. A hand touched her bare shoulder, and she shivered, leaning in to the touch.

Sarah Jane sighed. "The two of you look post card ready, with the snowy background through the window and the mistletoe hanging above you."

Mistletoe? It certainly hadn't been Alistair's idea to hang the garish decoration. What was his wife's name? Sally? Fiona?

"Ah, Doris," Alistair was embracing a woman who had just entered the room. Sally (or Fiona) must have been the name of his first wife. The mother of his daughter. She'd been a little girl when he'd seen her last, nearly fifteen years ago. He supposed that she was an adult now (children did tend to grow up all too fast, he knew this quite well.)

"Iain?" A voice asked, incredulous. Iain looked over to see a young blonde woman coming over to him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place how he knew her.

"Iain, you remember my wife, Doris," Alistair introduced the first woman.

"Charmed," Iain nodded, not particularly remembering. He knew that he must have attended their wedding, but that had been fifteen years ago, when he'd last seen Alistair's daughter.

"And my daughter – Kate, would you come here for a moment? Iain's finally brought his fiancé over," Alistair called the younger woman.

"Alistair," Iain hissed, but the other man paid him no mind. Iain was jumpy. There were quite a few too many people for his liking in the vicinity, but he had resigned himself to that fate. This, however, was quite a different matter. This was personal. This was getting to know people that he didn't know, only saw once a year, and people who probably didn't remember him.

"Yes, Dad?" The young blonde woman looked from her father to Iain.

"You remember Iain?" Alistair prompted her.

She studied Iain for a moment. "He was in your wedding?" She sounded ever so slightly unsure of herself.

Kate would remember that. She'd been twenty-four when her father had remarried. Iain supposed that Kate wasn't so young any more, but didn't care to consider what that made Alistair and himself.

"Best man," Alistair clapped Iain's shoulder. "And now you're getting married. At some point, I presume."

Iain hummed. "Later rather than sooner, _I_ presume. I only just got around to asking for her hand this morning."

"This morning? Iain, you've been talking about marrying this woman for six months!" Alistair exclaimed, shocked.

"I never claimed to have very good timing, Alistair."

"No, well, we are all quite aware of _that_ ," Alistair shook his head. He raised his glass. "A toast," he announced to the guests. "To Rose and Iain. It's about _bloody_ time." Rose toasted Iain, hiding a smirk.

"Six months?" She whispered, a coy smile on her face.

"It's a long story," Iain seethed quietly.

"Half the year, apparently," Rose smiled, tongue touching out. She became aware that Alistair's guests were looking at her and Iain expectantly.

"I think they want you to kiss her, Iain," John called from down the table.

Iain regarded Rose, who quirked her shoulders slightly. Unconsciously, he moistened his lips. Her cheeks were pinkening, but she reached for his hand. His head tilted, forehead leaning in, and their lips touched ever so briefly. But Rose didn't pull away. She captured his lips in her own, and Iain could practically _feel_ her radiating love. But of course, it wasn't real. This was only a fake relationship, after all, one strung together for his convenience so that his lie to his friends was not outed. Rose _couldn't_ love him. Iain broke the kiss, suddenly aware of Mike and John whooping, Sarah and Jo giddily whispering to each other, and Alistair just shaking his head and sighing.

"We are engaged, remember?" Rose chimed out, as Iain's friends looked on, wriggling her ring finger. It nearly broke her heart to remember that they weren't, that this was a pretence for Iain's closest friends, that he'd gotten himself in a bind and invited her along for the fun of it. And she _was_ having fun, meeting new people, learning more about her co-worker's personal life, getting to know him more and more as a person who was not just the professor with whom she worked on occasion. Or rather, he worked in his laboratory and she modelled her paintings on him. (Rose had always wanted to be an artist, and had been quite good at it. After so many missed opportunities, she had finally enrolled herself in a community college art class.)

Rose pressed a second, brief kiss to Iain's cheek. If she was only going to have this one chance to be with Iain Prydon, then she was going to savour every last moment of it.

She noticed Doris slip off into the kitchen and frowned. It wasn't a dinner party and so the older woman truly had no reason to be in the kitchen. Perhaps she just needed a break from the exuberant environment. It did not appear that they entertained a large party such as this frequently, and Rose presumed that Doris was simply over-exhausted. Rose excused herself, following the older woman.

"Are you all right?" She stepped in to the kitchen.

"Oh," Doris exclaimed, closing her eyes. "You startled me. Rose, was it?"

"Yeah," Rose smiled. "Are you all right?" She repeated her question.

"Oh, yes, yes. It has been quite a while since we've had so many guests over, I'm afraid that I needed a moment." Doris smiled weakly, leaning against the countertop.

"Nothing that a spot of tea won't fix," Rose suggested. Doris nodded.

"Tea's just in that jar on the counter."

Rose filled the kettle with water, taking comfort in the task's familiarity. "How many people are here, anyway?"

"Oh, there's Alistair and myself, and Kate of course. Iain and you. Mike, John, Jo, Harry, and Sarah. Jo's husband. And those other UNIT chaps, there's four of them. So that's four and six and two and three, which makes ten and five which is fifteen. Is that all?" Doris laughed faintly.

"We might need two pots, then," Rose joked.

"Oh, those UNIT fellows – that's how they are all acquainted, by the way, dear, some obscure branch of the United Nations – are all coffee drinkers. Every last one of them. Except for myself. I didn't know what I was marrying in to – hopefully now that you know, you'll not change your mind and find an out of your engagement!" Doris placed a clean filter in the coffeepot and began to measure grounds. "It truly is like a family," she continued after starting the coffee brewing, "and I can see that everyone here is looking forward to getting to know you better, Rose."

Rose nodded, only thinking that Iain Prydon was not truly planning on marrying her.


	4. Chapter 4

doctorroseprompts DW bingo – Twelve's eyebrows, Piper bingo – foxy smile

31 days of ficmas - Mistletoe

"You really are quite in love with her," Alistair was quick to slip into Rose's vacated seat.

Iain's eyebrows knit together. "We are engaged," he reminded his friend hollowly.

"You were engaged to Melody," Alistair said soberly.

"I never married her," Iain protested weakly. "Not _really_."

"Marilyn."

" _That_ was a mistake. We were drunk and young, loose in Vegas. It wasn't even a real chapel," Iain's resolve strengthened.

"Elizabeth."

Iain scoffed. "Everybody knew that it would never last."

"The fact remains that you have been seriously involved with three women, with intentions of marrying them. Should I not be concerned about your newest relationship, with a woman you have all but _refused_ to bring around?" Alistair pressed. "Does Rose know?"

Iain looked up at his friend. "What do you think?" His tone was bitter.

"You can _not_ marry this woman without telling her. It should not affect her decision, if she loves you, but this is something that your fiancé ought to know," Alistair said reprovingly.

"Yes, Alistair. 'Rose, dearest, I am afraid that I might not have mentioned that I've been engaged before. Twice, as a matter of fact! And I was young and drunk and stupid and married a woman in Vegas on a whim! But no worries, love. We've long since gotten a divorce, haven't seen each other in _years_! Then my last girlfriend turned out to be a psychopath who wanted to kill me before deciding that she'd fallen in love with me,'" Iain inhaled sharply. "That would be a _lovely_ conversation."

Alistair was looking over Iain's shoulder. "She's behind me, isn't she?' Alistair nodded, rising from his chair.

"I'll just give you some privacy," he glowered at Iain. His friend nodded, curling his hand over his mouth morosely.

"Doris made some coffee," Rose said faintly. "Said no one drank tea back in the old days." She placed the steaming mugs on the table.

"Rose," Iain gazed into her eyes. "I didn't tell you because it never occurred to me that it would come up. The last relationship ended over ten years ago."

"You aren't _obligated_ to tell me anything, Iain." Rose scrambled to cover the slip.

"No," Iain agreed. Rose's heart thudded. "But I suppose there are certain things that my fiancé ought to have known _before_ she'd agreed to marry me."

Rose took his hand. "Iain," she started. "Iain, I," she couldn't. Not here, certainly not now. The time they'd spent together, the time she'd spent talking to Doris, to Jo and Sarah Jane, she'd gotten to know Iain Prydon quite well. And if she'd found that, maybe, she could truly love him, well, that was nobody's business but her own. "It doesn't matter," Rose said firmly, solidifying her hold on his hand. "Everybody has a past. What's important to us is the future."

Alistair looked from Iain to Rose. She kept her head straight, thinking lovely thoughts so that her expression was one of pure adoration. If most of these thoughts concerned Iain, it was just a by-product of spending so much time with his friends. Evidently, he seemed to believe her.

"Of course. Rose." Alistair took leave of the pair, passing through the crowd. Iain and Rose watched as made his way to the UNIT crowd, watching as he settled in and joined that conversation.

"Looks like we kept our cover up," Rose said after a long pause.

"Yeah," Iain absently threaded his fingers through hers. "Rose," he started brashly, then stopped. He couldn't tell her, not here. She'd probably think that he was a lecher, with some lewd sexual fantasy, when the truth was he'd fancied her since they'd first met. Perhaps not their first meeting, but he enjoyed her wit, her enthusiasm for trying new things (so intense it nearly paralleled his own), and just simply being with her. He adored how her tongue peeked out from behind her teeth when she found something humorous. He found her smile when she was amused to be slightly different, but just as enticing. Her eyes would light up wolfishly and her grin would be wide and dazzling.

"Iain" Rose stroked his hand. Then froze. There was no need for maintaining their cover at the moment. They were on their own, away from the people whom Iain had been lying to the past few years. And yet,

Iain held their clasped hands up. "Rose," he started again, only to be interrupted.

"Iain!" It was Jo. "Iain, everyone is waiting for you. You haven't said as much as hello to me, barely said a word to Sarah Jane, and I don't think you've even acknowledged the rest of the lot." Jo paused a moment, clearly intending to go on. "And don't you think that you ought to let me borrow your unknown, mysterious fiancé and let us get to know her a bit? That's enough sneaking around to hide under the mistletoe, don't you think?"

Rose and Iain looked at each other, before slowly looking up to see the festive red berries hanging above them.

"Oh, go on then. What's one more kiss when you've been gone ten minutes? But next time, I'll let Alistair come to find you," Jo said threateningly, which was immediately displaced by a small giggle. She waved cheerfully as she went to re-join the party.

"It seems your friend is under the impression that we've been snogging," Rose looked after where Jo had disappeared.

"It seems that we should have some evidence not suggesting the contrary when we return," Iain agreed.

Rose reached up, lightly caressing Iain's face. She shuddered, this time not hiding her arousal. Iain bent down, easily closing the four inches between them. Rose felt his breath, cool on her lips, and felt her own breathing hitch. His eyes were the most beautiful blue (periwinkle, she thought) she'd ever seen.

" _Iain_ ," she breathed, trailing her fingers over his cheekbones.

" _Rose_ ," he moaned, voice low. If he focused, he could hear his friends chatting away in the other room. He focused on the sensation of Rose's hands on his face, her breath hot on his lips. Her head tilted up and he couldn't tell if he lightly brushed his lips against hers or if she initiated the first contact. Not that it mattered.

He'd thought that kissing a woman was supposed to make his heart race, palms sweaty and mind boggled. That had been his experience. Instead, kissing Rose seemed to heighten his senses. She pulled away slightly to breathe, and he heard the quiet smack of their lips pulling apart. The kiss had only lasted a few seconds, yet to Iain it felt like an eternity. He looked into Rose's eyes, searching for something. He told himself that he was looking to see if he had overstepped the boundaries of their fake relationship, if she regretted kissing him.

Rose's hazel eyes were half-lidded, staring warmly into his own. Iain's mouth stretched into a smile. He was truly in love with her, he knew now. And it appeared that she might be in love with him. That, or she just enjoyed having the living daylights snogged out of her. Her tongue was poking out once more, her lips slightly swollen.

Iain's blue eyes were soft. He looked more vulnerable now than when they'd first started getting to know the intimate details of the other's life. He reached out, almost hesitantly, to push Rose's hair from her face, tucking the loose strands behind her ear, his fingers lingering ever so lightly.

"Iain, Jo's waiting for you, remember?" Sarah Jane called loudly from the doorway. "Next time we really _will_ send Alis-"

"Send me where?" A lower voice cut in.

"Jo's been waiting nearly twenty minutes for Iain to stop snogging his girlfriend. If that's all they've been doing, it's no wonder it's taken three years for him to bring her to meet us," Sarah Jane chuckled.

"Seems like we ought to rejoin the party," Rose murmured, taking Iain's hand. Iain raised their clasped hands to his mouth, his lips brushing over her knuckles. Together, they made their way back up the corridor to where Jo, Sarah, and Alistair were waiting.


	5. Epilogue

Alistair was smirking ever so slightly, though Iain knew that Rose was probably the only person who couldn't tell. "As you know, Rose Tyler and I have been dating since the fifth of March twenty-thirteen. And as most of you know, we've been engaged for the past three years. Tonight, we have decided that our New Year's resolution will be to set a date for the wedding before our fifth anniversary," Iain announced suddenly.

"Really?" Rose's smile was feral, dangerously attractive.

"That's typically what engaged couples are aiming for, darling," Iain snarked. "Waiting around to spend the rest of their lives together."

"It's about time you set a date," Alistair visibly barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Not that you've done it yet, anyway."

After Iain's friends had come up to the 'happy couple' and congratulated them, he once more drew Rose aside. "I don't believe that I mentioned how grateful I am to your aid in this scheme of mine," he whispered, lips brushing against her ear. Rose felt a shiver run down her spine at the contact.

Smiling, she replied that it had been a pleasure. "After this is all over, _we_ might be the ones disappointed that we're not getting married," she breathed, as Iain kissed her collarbone.

Rose didn't… She _couldn't_ … Iain's thoughts were a jumble.

" _Rose_ ," he breathed her name.

" _Iain_ ," she responded in kind. But inside her head, her mind was racing. Had she truly just admitted that she didn't want to end this 'charade' (was it still a charade if she was falling in love with him?)? His arms were tentatively wrapping around her waist.

"Would you do me the honour of going to dinner with me Friday night?" Iain's blue eyes were expressing a multitude of emotions – hope, wonder, fear.

"Iain Prydon, I would _love_ to go to dinner with you." Rose was positively radiant. She was beaming the most gorgeous smile that Iain had ever seen. He kissed her.

She _melted_ into it, her lips soft, breath hot. Her hands twisted into his hair, pulling him closer. This kiss was passionate, slower but just as sensual as their first. He ran his tongue against her lips, she parted them, exhaling slowly.

Six months later, the wedding date postponed indefinitely, Iain Prydon and Rose Tyler moved in together. They'd had more than several dinners together since that fateful party, and the truth had outed itself to Iain's friends. Not that it truly mattered, as they had unofficially decided to remain engaged. They'd bought a flat together and completely refurnished it, down to repainting the front door. They went down to the chippy at least once a week, explored London together, and took daytrips across the country. But the one thing that had never changed was that they were always taking the other's hand. Now, however, they were both utterly in love and didn't care if the entire world knew.


End file.
